


Where the Camera Isn't

by DemyxDancer



Category: WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Darcy Is Probably Not Okay, Episode: s01e06 All-New Halloween Spooktacular!, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Potentially Inaccurate Depictions of the Hex's Mindscrew, Reality Bending, advertisements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemyxDancer/pseuds/DemyxDancer
Summary: Over the past week, Darcy has thought a lot about what would happen if she ended up in the Hex: what she would look like, what role she would have, and how she would heroically fight from the inside.None of this especially prepared her for the reality. Especially not the part where she had to beg to not be turned into a clown.This fanfic is sponsored by Infinity Body Wash. Infinity Body Wash: Do the Impossible.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	Where the Camera Isn't

**Author's Note:**

> This story combines two of my favorite things: shameless mindscrew, and posting a theory that will be invalidated barely twenty-four hours later.

Darcy had a brief moment to take an inventory of her emotions as the flickering red wall of unreality bore down on her. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere, thanks to Director Shooty McDumbass.

First off: terror. That made sense. Monica had described her time inside the Hex as excruciating, a violation. She had said that she could feel Wanda’s grief at the same time that she was being forced to smile and laugh and playact a wacky friend for an unseen camera. It was honestly difficult to conceptualize what exactly that would feel like, other than _probably not good._

Plus, she had never been cut out for traditional suburban life. If she had, she would have gone to community college and settled down with a nice boy from high school like her mom had wanted, instead of ending up across the country in some desert tasering a Norse god. The thought of being trapped in pearls and heels, waiting on some aloof 1950s husband and tending to 2.5 kids and a dog, made her shudder. Thank god Wanda was already on to the 00s. At least she could be a single girl and open her own bank account.

...would it stop at the 00s? Would Wanda somehow start channeling future sitcoms from the 2030s and beyond? That didn’t make sense, but none of this did.

Honestly, though, the largest part of her fear was not going inside the Hex -- part of her had been wondering what that would be like ever since she showed up -- but being trapped there forever. Not even necessarily for the rest of her life -- for all she or anyone knew, it could literally be _forever._ The fact that most of the people who were studying the Hex were currently being swallowed by it did not bode well for their chances of making it out.

So, that was the terror. She tugged at the handcuffs keeping her bound to the truck. Yup. Still handcuffs. Stupid Hayward. She hoped he got trapped in the Hex as something really embarrassing, like a clown.

Playing a distant second to terror in her mind were more practical considerations. She probably wouldn’t have been able to manage any under the circumstances if she hadn’t already spent way too much time thinking about what she would do if she ended up in the Hex. After all, Monica had been fighting from the inside. She was going to have to do the same. Depending on how much the Hex expanded, she might end up on the outer edges of it, and she might be able to discreetly look for an escape route. Wanda probably couldn’t monitor everyone all the time.

And if Wanda did turn her attention to her, maybe she could talk to her. Maybe she was just hurting. Maybe she just wanted a family. Maybe she could think of something brilliant and heartfelt, exactly the right thing to say to Wanda, and she’d bring the Hex down and they’d hug it out and cry and there would be a round of hot chocolate and therapy for everyone.

Of course, Monica hadn’t managed to do that, and Monica was pretty much better than her in every way that was relevant to the situation. Vision hadn’t even been able to escape, and he was a superpowered flying robot capable of wielding Thor’s hammer. She, on the other hand, was a garden variety nerd who had once touched Thor’s hammer when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was warm and felt like static electricity. She wished she could be a hero like they were.

And that left the third, least urgent thought playing in her head: the hope that Wanda at least chose something good for her. During the long hours she had spent monitoring the broadcasts with Agent Woo, she had given this matter a little too much thought. Goofy neighbor seemed to be taken, and Wanda didn’t seem to go to work. Would she be one of Vision’s co-workers? A cousin from out of town? A door-to-door salesperson? She hoped she got an outfit as neat as Monica’s 70s getup. 

She really, really hoped she wouldn’t just end up as an extra.

* * *

There’s an autoplaying video embedded into the middle of the fanfic you’re reading. That’s weird -- AO3 doesn’t have any ads, and even if it did, you have an adblocker installed. Maybe there’s something wrong with your browser?

A handsome, shirtless man is looking directly at the camera. His smile seems forced, as though he might burst into tears at any moment. He reads from a script.

“Look at me. Now look at your skin. Now look back at me. Is your skin dry and cracked? Look back at my hands -- I’m holding gemstones. Does your face have wrinkles? Would you like to rewind time? It may seem impossible, but nothing is impossible when you use Infinity Body Wash. I’m on a raft.”

The video disappears. That was strange. You’ll have to see if any other AO3 pages do that.

* * *

She knew, from watching the wall of static move, that it only took a moment to engulf her, but it felt like so much longer. She could feel something in her mind, rummaging, throwing out the parts that she couldn’t use. It must be Wanda, but it wasn’t like she had some prior frame of reference for what Wanda altering her brain would be like.

She was an astrophysicist -- no, that wouldn’t do (wouldn’t do for what?) She was… part of a family, no, she was a graduate student, yes, that was acceptable (accceptable for _what?_ ) There was no college in Westview, so she must be there to visit her parents. Someone else could be her parents. That could work (work _how?_ )

All around her, the SWORD compound turned into red and white striped circus tents, the agents into clowns. She briefly felt guilty for wishing that fate on Hayward as she begged in her mind for that to not happen to her.

The wall passed. She tried looking down at herself, and that simple action was much harder than it should have been. She couldn’t comprehend her clothing: the t-shirt and jeans could have belonged to any era, and they flickered from black-and-white to full HD color haphazardly. Around her, the circus seemed like a relic from the 50s, but it was still in color. She wondered if it would suddenly update to a Cirque du Soleil or something when they hit the 00s.

All the while she could feel something moving in her head, like a mind-controlling Marie Kondo throwing out anything that didn’t give her joy.

And then, there was the pain and grief.

It hit her in a sudden wave, a hopeless feeling as though everything she had ever cared about had been taken away. It was mostly Wanda’s grief, she knew, although there was some of her own mixed in there: mourning for the fact that she might never return to her own apartment or sleep in her own bed or get coffee with Agent Woo again. She didn’t know how she could endure it. The people in Westview had been enduring it for _nine days._

A woman in a baggy, rainbow colored clown outfit ran past her, flailing as if she were in slow motion, freezing in place not more than a dozen feet from where Darcy was standing. Her mouth twitched and formed a wide smile, though her eyes still showed distress.

Panic rose in her chest. She wasn’t sure what that was all about, but she wanted no part of it. She tried to turn and run herself, but…

Wanda didn’t need her.

It’d be easier to just stay where she was until she was _needed._

Her arm froze, outstretched.

Part of Darcy’s brain thrashed against the new constraint. She was being made into an extra. She didn’t want to be an extra. The thought of being trapped forever in time until Wanda happened to look her way was too terrible to bear. In her mind, she began jumping up and down and waving her mental arms around like an anxious schoolchild, hopefully forcing Wanda to pay attention.

* * *

The hunger gnawed at her. It was always gnawing at her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. She had sneaked a yogurt cup in the background of one of her scenes a while ago -- that might be it.

Darcy sat on her couch, smiled, and looked at the place where she knew the camera would be if there were a camera there.

“So… that’s how my prank war with Pietro ended with us both getting banned from the Cirque du Soleil,” she said, not entirely sure where she was getting her lines from. “It’s no big loss, really, I’ve never liked the circus. And they told us they expect the tightrope walker to make a full recovery, so that’s good!” 

Her facade cracked for a second. It hurt a lot, but she couldn’t afford to give up now. All she had to do was think of that one brilliant thing to say to Wanda and it’d be hot chocolate and therapy city.

Any moment now.

She cleared her throat and looked back at the spot where the camera wasn’t. “I guess I should probably say that I learned a lesson about getting in over my head, but…” She leaned in closer. “Honestly? I really don’t think I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a long-time MCU fan, but have never written for it on account of the fandom is terrifying. So thank you very much for reading this story about a hapless normie getting caught up in forces beyond anyone's understanding.


End file.
